Fortitudine Vincimus
by L.A.H.H
Summary: Through Endurance We Conquer. The Seventh Year, the year of Voldemort's reign, was difficult for all of the students at Hogwarts. Excerpts from the diary of Hannah Abbott, a seventh year Hufflepuff, give a glimpse into this. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Fortitudine Vincimus - Through Endurance We Conquer**

**This story is based on the students, mainly Hannah, Neville and the Hufflepuffs, , during Snape and the Carrows' reign and the Seventh Year.**

**It is rated K+ for mentions of violence, torture and romance. Which sound weird juxtaposed like that. But if you can read Harry Potter, you can read this.**

**Disclaimer: The characters, plot and settings in this are the property of JK Rowling. I owe any characters you might not recognise to the HP Lexicon essay, 'Secrets of the Classlist.' **

**Summary: The Seventh Year, the year of Voldemort's reign, was difficult for all of the students at Hogwarts. Excerpts from the diary of Hannah Abbott, a seventh year Hufflepuff, give a glimpse into this. **

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I'm writing this on the train. The train I probably shouldn't be on. The train to Hogwarts. Strange, really. I've been on this train hundreds of times – alright, not quite. Quite a few though. I've never been scared whilst I was on it, not since the Dementors in third year. They were awful. I hid behind Justin, who wasn't a good choice since I'm wider than him, but Sally-Anne had already hidden behind Ernie, who was the only person with enough brains to draw his wand. But they didn't come very far into our compartment, thank Merlin.

I'm glad that that happened in third year. I didn't have any bad memories in third year. Now, though, I would have ended up back at that moment, finding out that Mum was dead. Then all the year after.

I wouldn't have come back to school this year if it wasn't compulsory. I think I'm going to really struggle. I was never very smart to begin with, and now I've missed most of my sixth year. I'm not going to pass my NEWTs.

I almost didn't come. How can anyone make it compulsory to go to school once you're of age, which I am. Which I have been since last October. To be honest, I think I've been old enough to count as of age since I became an orphan.

Of course, I'm not technically an orphan. My dad is alive. Apparently. My mum left me some letters, letting me know who he was. She knew she might die in the War – she's a Muggleborn witch, so she was a target.

I didn't need to know. I never wanted to know. My mum and I, we grew up together. She was only sixteen when she had me – she got pregnant soon after taking her OWLs and dropped out of school. Like the Weasley twins, only with a lot less glamour and drama.

I never needed all those lectures about 'be careful, work hard, or you'll end up a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron.' I had the case study right in front of me – my Mum, who wasn't careful, didn't work hard and ended up a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron.

She could have been worse off. Tom is ever so sweet, so he gave her bed and board and a wage on top of that. Her family didn't want anything to do with her – they're respectable Muggles, and apparently having babies aged sixteen isn't what good Lancashire girls did in the 1960s.

But we ended up like sisters rather than mother and daughter. Susan's mum is a bit stern about girl stuff, so we always asked my mum about it. She taught us all the charms – make-up charms, hair charms…contraceptive charms before our fifth year. A long time before we were thinking about that sort of thing!

Anyway, my Dad – he was older than my Mum. Four years older. I think my Mum was a bit of a – well, not a good girl. She went to a New Year's Eve Party, invited by one of her pureblood friends, and from that, and that alone, I was conceived. Not so much never kiss a boy on a first date as never impregnate a girl on a first date.

First and only date. She never saw him again, certainly never told him that she was pregnant! I don't think she thought he'd be much help, looking after a baby. I used to think that she didn't even know who it was. But she did. She just wasn't proud of it.

Up until my third year, it wouldn't have been too bad. A war hero – a dead war hero, but a hero nonetheless. Then, slowly, I'd have discovered he wasn't a hero. He was a coward, and a traitor, and a Death Eater.

Peter Pettigrew and my mother had sex once. And I was born. Lucky me. I inherited a lot of him too – his plumpness, his shortness, watery blue eyes – I've seen pictures. Not like my Mum, who's a real statuesque-type blonde.

I wonder if he slipped something in her drink to get her to sleep with him.

Mum said in her letter that I didn't get any of his insides, though. I'm a Hufflepuff. Loyal, honest and hardworking. A bit thick, but if you just say things slowly…

Sorry. If you read this any further, you'll find out that I'm quite bitter. I think I'm entitled to it. I'm orphaned, penniless, seventeen and about to walk into a school whose Headmaster is part of the organisation who killed my mother. For all I know, one of the Carrows killed her.

Yep, I didn't really want to come back to school this year. I spent all of last year working at the Leaky Cauldron for Tom, so I could have just done that. Only I couldn't, not really. Business isn't really booming, and unless something changes then Tom is going to have to let some staff go. And he's too soft-hearted to do that now, when that income could be the difference between a witch or wizard starving on the streets. So he didn't need an extra wage to pay and an extra mouth to feed, aka me.

I wonder who will be back at Hogwarts this year. I wonder what I missed, not being at school last year. I missed all the Draco Malfoy trying to kill people thing. No big loss, although I feel a bit sad that I never saw Professor Dumbledore in the last year of his life. I bet there are lots of couples I missed – apart from Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, whose relationship I apparently missed the entirety of. And Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown's. Where did that come from? We all know that Ron and Hermione are going to end up together. It's like when boys pull your hair at primary school – it means they like you.

That means that no boys like me – boys never pull my hair. I don't talk to that many of them. I only really talk to my friends – Susan, Justin and Ernie. The other girls in my dormitory either keep to themselves (Megan Jones) or are bestest best friends and don't speak to anyone else (Rebecca Rivers and Sally-Anne Perks).

I've talked to Wayne Hopkins a few times, and nobody can avoid talking to Zach Smith, more's the pity. Outside of my House, Hermione Granger is the only one I've ever spoken to. Even at D.A. meetings, I preferred to keep my mouth shut.

I'm going to stop writing now. I need to change into my robes, and I want to hide this right at the bottom of my trunk. I don't want anyone to find it. I've never kept a diary before. I used to be able to tell Mum everything that I didn't want to tell my friends. Now there'd be no point sending off an owl to her. I don't think they deliver to the afterlife.

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**Please review. **

**I hope to update this story (10 chapters in all) in about a week's time, at the most.**

**x**


	2. Chapter 2

**I got reviewers! Lots of you! Thank you: Arlaths's Daughter, Jive22, Palindromed, Likewow5556, silverbirch, MidnightIsCalling and HopeCoppice.**

**Thank you! I hope that you review again.**

**Because of that, I'm updating sooner. I'm sorry that the chapter is quite short - I'm afraid all of these chapters are likely to be. **

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_Excerpt from the diary of Hannah Abbott, September 1997_

I'm writing this in my dormitory. It seems awfully quiet, although there's actually quite a few of us here. Sally-Anne and Rebecca aren't, and they were always chatting like mad, so that might make up some of it. Not to mention Sally-Anne's laughter, which is the sort that you hear a corridor away and think '_oh, there's Sally-Anne.' _Annoyingly infectious, too.

But there's a new girl – Rhiannon Cooper, who was home-schooled up until last year. At least, that's what Megan says and we're going to have to take her word for it, because Rhiannon doesn't speak a word of English, only Welsh. Lucky she got Sorted into Hufflepuff really, since there's two Welsh people here. Maybe that's why the Sorting Hat put her here – maybe it doesn't speak Welsh either. On the other hand, Helga Hufflepuff was apparently Welsh – maybe the Welsh have an affinity for our House.

So there's four of us. Don't know what Blood Status Rhiannon might be, but the rest of us are half-blood. Me and my Mudblood mother, Susan and her Muggle mother, Megan and her Muggle mother. Strange how we're all Muggle on our mum's side. That was the first time I ever wrote 'Mudblood' by the way....I don't know why I did. Defiance, I think. Pride? They can call it an insult all they like, but if I don't want it to be, then it won't be.

The boys are the same, only four of them. Justin is the missing one….I hope he's okay. I'm pretty sure that he's not been stupid enough to turn up at the Ministry for Registration. I don't know if Sally-Anne or Rebecca did…I hope they didn't either, but I'm more worried about Justin. He's the only one of my close friends who are missing. Susan and Ernie are my other two best friends, and we're fine.

I hope Ernie is okay, in the boys' dorm. He's not friends with any of the others really – he doesn't exactly find it easy to make friends, but he's a sweetie underneath his bluster. Justin could see that. Wayne and Stephen never have, and they're too close for anyone to care. Zach is just annoying. He went on all the way through dinner about how his parents didn't want him to come back, but they didn't have a choice. Which is ridiculous, because they're both magical so why couldn't they teach him.

At least he fell short of saying that he's a pureblood, so exceptions should be made for him.

The Gryffindor table looked really forlorn. Only Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom out of all of the boys. No surprise there, of course. Harry Potter would be stupid to come back, and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley will be with him. Dean Thomas is apparently Muggleborn, so he's just as much at risk. Lavender Brown and Parvati are back, along with Amy Spinks. Katie Roper isn't though. I wonder if she's alive.

The Ravenclaws were probably the most plentiful. Everyone but Kevin Entwhistle.

Oh, and the Slytherins. None of them were missing. Of course. Mind you, I half expected that some of them would have already started being fully-fledged Death Eaters by now. Maybe being at Hogwarts is their training.

We have Death Eater professors now, after all. Three of them, because Professor Snape counts.

Someone at the Gryffindor table booed when he stood up to give the Headmaster's speech. Ernie muttered 'hear hear.' I can tell already that this year is going to be different. I was dreading it for a long time. Ever since I had a little bit of a breakdown during my OWLs. And I knew NEWTs would be worse. I never imagined I'd be doing NEWTs after missing almost a whole year of school. Or that I'd be taking 'Dark Arts.' That doesn't sound good.

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Sorry, I stopped writing for a bit because Susan said something. We had a bit of a conversation about Harry Potter. We were wondering where he was, other than not here. She thinks he's off trying to kill You-Know-Who. Megan thinks he's fled the country.

I don't care very much. Harry Potter scares me a bit. I know that I was wrong in second year, thinking that he was the Heir of Slytherin. And in fourth year, when I thought that he had tried to overshadow Cedric (who, if I'm honest, I had a crush on, like all of the Hufflepuff girls. And then he went and chose a _Ravenclaw. _A pretty one too. I thought he'd at least value some substance over style). But it turns out that Harry was being set up, and he tried to save Cedric, and he nearly died bringing his body back.

And in fifth year, when he was a little crazy and going around yelling at everyone, including his best friends. And going on about how You-Know-Who was back. I believed him – because Hermione Granger believed him, and she's so rational that she'd die rather than believe in something only partially true.

But I don't see why _everyone _isn't scared of Harry. They're scared of You-Know-Who, and Harry defeated You-Know-Who. Three times, or four, or five. Depending on the story. Maybe more by now. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, sure, but if you're powerful enough to defeat someone that scary then you must be pretty scary yourself.

Susan was saying that she hopes You-Know-Who suffers, with a scary glint in her eye that reminds me of a Gryffindor or a Slytherin. Not a nice Hufflepuff. But he killed her aunt, and Susan and Madam Bones were close.

I don't hate the people who killed my Mum. I'm scared of them. I hate my Dad, a little, for working for them and for betraying his friends. I don't think I'd do that. But I don't know. If I knew where Justin was, and they Cruciated me to find out…I don't think I'd hold up that long. I'm not very brave.

I wouldn't have been recruited for the Order of the Phoenix either. My Defence Against the Dark Arts work was always terrible, although I got an E thanks to the DA. My Transfiguration is worse – my Potions, even when Professor Snape wasn't looming over me, was abysmal.

I can do Charms, weirdly. And I like Herbology, because there's no fiddly spellwork. You just have to be patient, and slow, and gentle with plants. I get that. My other subjects were Care of Magical Creatures (I tried, I really did, but those Blast-Ended Skrewts were _scary_. I preferred the unicorns) and Muggle Studies. Interesting, definitely, but sort of confusing.

It's all just so counter-intuitive. Professor Burbage used to say 'imagine that elecktricity is magic.' Okay, fine. That works, for a while. But then how do they make air-planes? They didn't run off elecktricity. And they make things called hot-air balloons. Which just float in the air. Because they have air in them. How does that make sense?

Not to mention the fact that there's so many of them. I don't know how You-Know-Who dares to wage war on them. Muggles outnumber wizards a hundred to one. They don't have one school for the whole of Britain – they have thousands. Imagine that, _thousands _of Hogwarts. The number of kids that must turn out….

Anyway, we're going to sleep now. We started worrying about what Muggle Studies and Dark Arts are going to be like, not to mention having Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson as Head Boy and Girl. They're the only ones – Professor Snape said that a Head Boy and Girl are sufficient, for now, so he's disbanding the Prefects. They can take away points, and I'm sure that they will. Then Megan, ever practical, pointed out that we'll find out when we get there, so the quickest answer to our panicking will be to get some sleep and wait.

Night.

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**Let me know what you think. And yes, Hannah uses a _lot _of italics. **

**x**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am very grateful to those who reviewed: silverbirch, Likewow5556, Kitty Bridgeta, Palindromed, Arlath's Daughter, MidnightIsCalling, NevemTeve and pistonunhappy227.**

**PLEASE READ: This story isn't a K+ any more. On reflecting, this story contains slight mentions of sex (although no actual lemons), the death, torture and maiming of children and romantic relationships. So it's been upgraded to a T. **

**If you don't think you can cope with the content, please don't read it. You can't sue me for mental damage after.**

**I hope that you like the chapter.**

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_An extract from Hannah Abbott's diary, September 10th 1997_

It's been ten days since I wrote an entry. I didn't want to write anything down. It would make it too real.

We went to our first Muggle Studies lesson. We'd heard rumours from students who'd had it already. Nothing good, either. Rather a lot about how they go on about Muggles being inferior, and dirty, and beastly.

We had it with the Slytherins. The Gryffindors had Dark Arts with the Slytherins afterwards, and wouldn't have Muggle Studies (with Ravenclaw) until Wednesday. So we were the first seventh years to have a lesson.

It was as bad as they said. No, it was worse. Professor Carrow sat there, smug and ugly, going on about Muggles. And how Muggle-wizard relations caused deformed, delinquent children. Oh, and how Muggles all lived in shacks, plotting to steal our magic – and when they succeeded, that was how you got a Muggleborn. And a Squib.

Not one Hufflepuff said a thing for the first half an hour. We just stared at her, while the Slytherins lapped it all up.

That's not fair. I know it's not. They weren't all pleased. Tracey Davis, who's half-blood anyway, looked very pale. Millicent Bulstrode was scowling – but that's her default expression, so who knows. Blaise Zabini had a face as blank as a slate. Draco Malfoy, weirdly, was ignoring Professor Carrow completely. The others, though. Theodore Nott, and Daphne Greengrass were smirking, in their aloof way.

Crabbe and Goyle were smirking in their moronic way. Lilith Moon was sneering. Pansy Parkinson was nearly leaping with joy, throwing nasty glances at anyone who she knew had Muggle parentage.

Myself included. Especially when Professor Carrow made a comment about how the offspring of such liasons ought, for the good of those of _true _wizarding blood, to be controlled and, if necessary, disposed of.

We were all in shock at dinner time. I think the other Houses were too, because they all looked sort of pale. Neville Longbottom was trembling slightly, with Seamus Finnigan muttering intently to him.

We didn't have Dark Arts until Wednesday. And I see now why the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were quite so shocked. The other Professor Carrow laid out a plan for the year. Studying the three Unforgivables, since we're of age. Moving on to casting them, before the end of the term.

This term it's Cruciatus. Next term it's Imperius. I suppose the term after must be Avada Kedavra, although killing the entire class strikes me as kind of stupid. I know that they're Death Eaters, but still.

The younger years will probably move onto the Unforgivables at the end of the year, so they were told. For now, they're doing 'mild' Dark magic. Learning incantations to raise Inferi. How to cast the Dark Mark. Other spells.

The rest of the lesson was spent on telling us about how special the Cruciatus curse is, in the most nauseating tone of voice. Its effects on the body – how it makes you feel pain in every nerve, so that there's no refuge, nothing to concentrate on but the pain.

I'm glad we had this with the Ravenclaws. I don't think I could have sat there and watched the expressions of glee on the faces of the Slytherins. Hufflepuffs don't usually see eye-to-eye with Ravenclaws. They think we're stupid and not worth their time; they have that thirst for knowledge which, in the opinion of more than one Hufflepuff, makes them a bit too Slytherin for our liking. But they looked as revolted as us.

Susan Bones said that she understood why Neville Longbottom felt so awful afterwards. Apparently his parents were tortured with Cruciatus when he was only a baby. They didn't die. They went mad with the sheer agony of it. They don't even know who he is.

I've never felt sorrier for anyone in my life. When I said that to Susan, she sighed. Told me I was a typical Hufflepuff – that Neville Longbottom had family still, at least.

I argued that at least I'd known my mother first.

She thought that made it worse. At least Neville will never know what he lost.

Megan was a bit shocked at us both, talking so casually about loss. She says that she couldn't imagine losing her parents – that _that _would make her go insane.

I said that she probably wouldn't. I thought I'd break too, but there's always support if you need it. Susan, Ernie, Justin – they wrote me so often last year, and all three of them invited me over for every weekend that they were back from Hogwarts. Not to mention Tom, who acted like I was his granddaughter rather than the left over child from his dead employee.

My new NEWT timetable was really hard to pick. Although it hasn't changed, I almost wanted it to. At the beginning of last year, I chose Charms, Herbology, Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts. The first three because I like them and the last one because I thought it was a good idea, to help keep me and my Mum safe.

That didn't work all that well.

Anyway, then I only studied the subjects for thirteen days before dropping out of school. And now I'm back, and I wasn't sure if I could pick them up. I didn't have a choice with Muggle Studies or the new 'Dark Arts' lesson. Charms is going to be really difficult, but I'm just going to have to live with it.

My real difficulty was Herbology. Professor Sprout said there would be no problem with me catching up – I was never that bad, and Herbology is quite good in that once you've learned the basic technique, you can get quite far. But every time that I walk into Greenhouse Three, I'm going to remember being taken out of Herbology to be told that Mum had died – had been murdered.

Professor Sprout teaches it though, so I couldn't tell her that I didn't want to study it any more. And there's nothing else I could have taken instead, so I'm stuck with it.

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Anyway, the Gryffindors had Muggle Studies at the same time as we had Dark Arts.

Seamus Finnigan, who I think is a half-blood, apparently took offence and made some comments.

He was Cruciated.

I know that I'm starting a new line quite often, but I have to write those statements alone. I won't believe them, I can't absorb them unless they are written separately. _He was Cruciated. _A seventeen year old boy. Cocky, happy-go-lucky, Irish Seamus. Seamus, who has always got a wink for a passing girl and a smart-alec comment for boys like Zach Smith. Cruciatus isn't real to me – it's the Bogeyman.

Moody put us under Imperius, but I can't even imagine what it would be like to be under the Cruciatus. Wayne Hopkins asked Seamus what it was like – 'effing painful' was his concise reply.

That was when Gryffindor called a meeting of the DA. Our coins didn't burn – I guess none of them know how to make them do that, with Hermione Granger gone. But we passed the message through word-of-mouth.

Not so discreetly as we should have, maybe, because Megan, Stephen and Wayne confronted those of us who had been in the DA last time and told us that they were coming to the meeting. So did Rhiannon, once Megan had translated for her.

When we turned up at the Room of Requirement, it seems we weren't the only new ones. Every single Gryffindor had turned up, Seamus, who only went once last time, and Amy Spinks, who never went at all, included. So were all of the Ravenclaw girls, even though none of them came before. Richard Runcorn was the only Ravenclaw boy missing, if you don't count Kevin since he never came back to Hogwarts this year.

There were younger students too – Colin Creevey and a boy who must be his brother, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley and a whole lot of other students who I don't even know the names of.

Nobody knew who should talk first. Ginny started, in the end. She said that it had all been Neville Longbottom's idea, and he was quick to deny it. Seamus Finnegan supported this though, and so did Luna Lovegood.

We talked about a lot, and didn't get that much done. It was mostly knowledge-sharing. I didn't realise that Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom have all fought Death Eaters before. Twice.

It doesn't surprise me with Ginny. Nothing would surprise me with Luna. Neville, though? In a confrontation between Neville and a goose, the goose would win. Mind you, my Mum always said that the expression 'wouldn't say boo to a goose' was moronic. 'Geese are bloody scary' she'd complain. 'Wouldn't say boo to a chicken – now that would make sense!'

But in the end, we put Neville in charge of Dumbledore's Army. A bit of me does see why – he's the best placed to look after a group that involves three different Houses. He is a Gryffindor; I think he probably understands what it's like to be a Hufflepuff, given his lack of competence at most things. I'm sure he's been called a duffer at times, like Hufflepuffs usually have. He's close friends with Luna, to keep Ravenclaw connected.

There was some talk about how we should all stand up in our next Carrow lesson and protest about what they're saying. And some more talk about how entirely suicidal that was. Neville agreed with those who thought it was stupid – he said that courting the Cruciatus curse shouldn't be an aim for anyone.

The first time that I've ever heard sense come out of a Gryffindor's mouth rather than over-noble heroics. We talked about it, the Hufflepuff seventh years, when we got back to our Common Room, all of us going up to the boys' dormitory to talk in private.

Everyone agreed that Neville was the best choice for our leader. Better than Harry Potter, Zacharias Smith even dared say. I never thought I'd say this, but I agreed with Zach. Harry Potter was noble and brave, but he was – I'm sorry, I do mean to write _is _- a bit temperamental and quick to act. Neville is steadier.

Gryffindors do make the best leaders. But what they always forget is that they shouldn't go fight alone. They need Ravenclaws for their spells. And they need Hufflepuffs for our steadiness. Our hard work. Our loyalty. It's all very well to have one brave Gryffindor charging in, but if they don't know anything then they won't get anywhere. And if they don't have any backup then they won't do any good.

But if you mess with one Hufflepuff, you mess with us all. Ernie Macmillan said something of the same sort 'You Know Who made an enemy of the wrong House when he murdered Cedric Diggory.'

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**I wish I was a Hufflepuff...it'd be nice to be that good, loyal, hard-working.**

**x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to you all for reading and especially those who are reviewing: NevemTeve, Kitty Bridgeta, Arlath's Daughter, silverbirch, BrokenBokken and Likewow5556.**

**In Half-Blood Prince, Hannah is taken out of Herbology very early on, on the week of the 15th September. Therefore I have her dying on the 12th, and Hannah being told on the 13th. **

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_Extract from the diary of Hannah Abbott, September 13th 1997._

I've just read over what I wrote last time – how Neville Longbottom told us not to go looking to get Cruciated. I sort of failed in that. I now join the elite club (getting bigger by the day) of people who know what that is like.

I'll start the story from the beginning. My mother died, a year and a day ago. I thought the anniversary, yesterday, would be really hard for me – so did everyone else, judging by how they all clustered around me, and constantly asked if I was okay.

Even people I've never spoken to before seemed to know, and shot me sympathetic looks all day. Padma Patil came up to me after Dark Arts and said that I looked like I was coping well, but if I had any problems then their dormitory had a stock of Dreamless Sleep Potion. I wonder who that is for.

Luna Lovegood said something incomprehensible but kind, about keeping strong so that the Lacrilaetas can't get an opening. Susan barely left my side all day, and Ernie glared at anyone who looked like they might even be thinking about getting in my way.

I appreciated it, really. And I went to sleep last night thinking that it was over. But it wasn't.

I don't know why, but yesterday was comparatively easy for me. It didn't remind me of the fact that she was dead – that thought has never been far from my mind since the moment I found out.

I woke up this morning, got dressed, went to breakfast – absolutely fine. Then I went to Herbology.

We'd all gathered around a Venomous Tentacula, to watch Professor Sprout drain the venom, when Neville Longbottom knocked into one of the panes of glass in the greenhouse. Nothing broke or anything, and he didn't mean anything by it – he's naturally clumsy – but it sounded like a knock on the door.

And before I knew it, I'd fled the greenhouse.

You see, the problem with yesterday being the anniversary of Mum's death is that today is the anniversary of my finding out. When a House-Elf came and fetched me to Dumbledore's office for me to find Dumbledore and Mary McDonald. She was down on the files as my guardian, because I have no other family. But Tom said it would be best for me not to leave the Leaky Cauldron. The last thing I needed now was more change, and he was prepared to offer me a job into the bargain.

And that was what I was remembering. I just sat there on the grass, and cried, and cried, and cried. Before very long, I realised that somebody else was there – Ernie. Poor Ernie, he's not very good at comforting people. Susan was in Transfiguration, so wasn't there, but she wouldn't have been any better.

Justin was the only one of us who was any good at comforting crying people. Justin was very good with people in general. He knew how to put someone at their ease. He said he'd been taught how.

I found out from my Mum that Justin must be someone very rich in the Muggle world. I told her that he nearly went to Eton, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. It's the poshest school in Muggle Britain, apparently. But Justin isn't snobby like Draco Malfoy is, so maybe posh people are different in that world. Maybe it's just Justin.

Or maybe Draco is the aberration. Justin never was – is, _is, _I need to stay in the present tense for Justin – very impressed with his manners. They were very 'New Wealth' apparently. Too eager to show that you're better than the others. If you're really posh, you know that you're better, and they know it too, and it's your job to pretend to others that you're not.

He didn't put it like that, because that sounds pretty snobby too, but after hearing Justin's comments about Draco over the years, I know what his outlook is.

So, Ernie was there trying to console me. Then, to my surprise, so was Neville Longbottom. I know him, of course. Apart from the DA, we've been partners in Herbology a few times, and I've always liked how he finds it easy to see the best in people. But it brought it home to me how seriously he's taking his role as leader of Dumbledore's Army, looking after us.

So these two strapping boys knelt with me while I cried.

It wasn't like it was the first time I'd cried about Mum. I kept bursting into tears for months afterwards, everywhere and anywhere. I would be washing up, and crying. I'd be serving customers at the bar and have to duck away for a while to have a little weep. The problem then was that I'd forget she wasn't here. I'd find myself thinking 'Oh, I have to remember to tell Mum…' or seeing something and thinking 'I better go get Mum, she'd love to see that….'

Then I'd cry.

But this was unusual on two counts – one, I was crying in front of people, which I never do. I look stupid when I cry, and I like to be private about it. And two, I wasn't crying because I'd remembered that she was dead, but I was crying because I was realising that this was the first year after she'd been gone – and I was going to have to live every remaining year of my life in the same way, without her. My graduation, my wedding, the birth of my children.

She won't be there. She'll never be there.

I'm going to change the topic now, because I'm starting to well up again, and Susan is in here watching me like a hawk, and I don't want her to get upset over me again. She already feels guilty that she wasn't there before, which is ridiculous.

To be honest, crying over what Mum won't be there for is stupid too. Given how the world looks at the moment, the probability of making it to graduation isn't all that high, let alone the chances of marriage and kids.

At least now that I have no more family, there's nobody to worry about being left behind if I die.

What happened after I finished crying is part of what brought it home to me. I finally stopped crying, Neville finally became convinced that I was alright and let me go, and Ernie and I finally went on to Muggle Studies. We weren't late, although I'd spent nearly half an hour crying, because I'd left Herbology nearly at the beginning of the lesson.

But Professor Carrow, that evil witch, she _knew. _She probably did it, or at least heard the order given.

So she made a comment about how it was a lovely, sunny day. A good day to exterminate those Mudbloods who had stolen magic, and their degenerate offspring, if they happen to have bred – and 'mark my words' she sneered 'these Mudbloods have no sense of propriety. They're like Muggles – breed like rabbits with anyone available.'

I've never really got angry before – Hufflepuffs don't really do anger - but I was angry then. I leapt up and started screaming something incoherent.

I didn't get very far before she cast Silencio and my voice was gone, leaving me mouthing obscenities at her.

She turned, cool as cucumber, to the Slytherins and said 'see? This is what I mean. Why you just can't let the degenerates breed.'

That was when I drew my wand. I couldn't have done anything, I wasn't thinking straight enough to focus on casting a spell, but she took the threat seriously, and cast Cruciatus.

Seamus Finnigan was right when he described it as 'effing painful.' It's about all it is. There's no other thought in your mind – nothing about when it will stop, nothing about when you'll slip into insanity, just sheer, screaming pain. You can't concentrate on anything but your every nerve yelling 'aaaaaaaah.'

Which is what I was doing, probably. I wasn't very conscious when she stopped, so it took me a few seconds to realise why. Ernie Macmillan had decided to 'do a Gryffindor' and be chivalrous, noble and self-sacrificing. He'd pointed his wand at Carrow.

At which point, she apparently ordered one of the Slytherins to Cruciate him. Draco Malfoy. He certainly tried, but nothing happened. Carrow scowled. Theodore Nott silkily raised a hand and suggested he try.

Thankfully, we were spared that spectacle. Carrow said that she'd wasted enough time on miscreants, degenerates and blood-traitors. She gave Ernie a detention.

He isn't back from it yet. Which is panicking me quite a lot.

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**Please review.**

**x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for reviewing: Likewow5556, Kitty Bridgeta, SunshineBear01, Arlath's Daughter, silverbirch, BrokenBokken and EclipxedRose.**

**Mentions of torture here. Again. Sorry. **

**And my computer won't let me use spellcheck, so I'm really sorry for any typos. Please point them out to me, I don't like having grammar or spelling errors in my work. **

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_Extract from Hannah Abbott's diary, January 1998_

Oh, I laughed when I read all these previous entries. It seems like they were written by a different person. A younger person. Of course, they were. But it seems like there's a bigger age gap between me and that girl than just three months.

The detentions were the start of it all. Although we restarted Dumbledore's Army before that, nobody really knew what we were up against until the detentions started. Nobody knew what it meant to have the Carrows in charge of discipline.

That elite club I mentioned, the ones who have had Cruciatus done to them? Well, it consists of most of Hogwarts now. And those who haven't had it done to them have done it, because that's what happens in Dark Arts lessons and detentions – you Cruciate someone, or you refuse. And then you're Cruciated.

But that's not all. The Carrows, for all their hatred of Squibs, don't seem to hate Filch. And he's in his element. I never thought I'd see the day when those manacles of his were in use again. Or his whip. But now I have.

That's one route through a detention. Others are just sheer torture – Slytherins who have shown proficiency at curses are 'rewarded' by being given the chance to practice them on others.

The Carrows helped us, by doing that. We've learned a valuable lesson – not all Slytherins are evil. Seamus Finnigan was in detention, along with Neville Longbottom. They're two of the most frequent trouble-makers, although Colin Creevey, Ginny Weasley, Ernie and Susan (she's pretty mouthy when she wants to be) are all challengers for the title. To my surprise, so are Terry Boot and Michael Corner, who seem to have started a competition between each other for who can insult the Carrows most creatively and using the most esoteric language. It's doing wonders for my vocabulary.

Anyway, it was Tracey Davis who was suppose to be torturing them, along with Blaise Zabini to keep an eye on her.

It didn't surprise them all that much when Tracey couldn't do it – she's never managed to cast Cruciatus in class. It's probably why the Carrows put her in charge of the detention. As we've had explained to us of the DA now, the Carrows regard Slytherin as their followers, and failure or dissension within the ranks is not appreciated. And if you show a reluctance for torture, you might well find yourself lumbered with more of it.

What did surprise them, though, was when Blaise cast Muffliato, and the pair of Slytherins explained to Neville and Seamus that they wanted to help.

They came to our next DA meeting. They've been faithful members ever since. Some thought we were taking a risk letting them in, but it's not like we're keeping the DA a secret. Everyone knows about it, even the Carrows. They know who's in it too – they keep a closer eye on us, but since it involves most of the school there's nothing they can do.

And they can't get in the Room of Requirement if we don't want them to.

Having allies in Slytherin has helped. It makes us feel a lot less isolated. But although they came to that one meeting, they've said they don't dare come to more. They'll try to stay on the torture roster, and they've let us know about other Slytherins who are probably sympathetic to the cause – Millicent Bulstrode, Malcolm Baddock and Miriam Alderman among them.

But their absence would be noted from their Common Room. It's too much of a risk. Some people made comments about 'self-serving Slytherins' but I can see their point. Nobody in our Common Rooms would turn us in - Richard Runcorn, the Ravenclaw I mentioned who didn't come to our initial DA meeting? His father was a Death Eater. And he's with us now, he joined after Christmas, because You-Know-Who tortured his father, all because Harry Potter stole his appearance with Polyjuice.

Lessons have become different too. In normal lessons, professors do everything possible to avoid giving detentions. They hate what's being done, it's easy to see that.

The Carrow lessons are different. Say a word out of place, and before you can blink you could be rolling on the floor under Cruciatus, or have a cut slashed across your cheek with Diffindo, or a quick burn given to any exposed skin.

It's terrifying how quickly it's become normal.

We're fighting back though. We're constantly preparing, learning the Defence Against the Dark Arts that the Carrows don't teach. If we have to fight when we leave Hogwarts, we'll be able to. If we have to fight _to _leave Hogwarts, we'll be able to.

We put DA leaflets everywhere, Dumbledore's Army written on the walls. The Carrows waking up to find their rooms destroyed and coated with anti You-Know-Who propaganda. Messages where the Carrows won't find them for students to keep strong. That's our most important thing – to keep up hope in the younger years.

Again, the Carrows do us a favour. If they lured the kids in with kind words, some of them might be convinced by the propaganda. But the way they act, it's easy to see who the evil ones are.

Apart from Snape. He's strange. He's never consistent. Take the example of when Neville, Ginny and Luna tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from his office. All he did was give them a detention of going into the Forest with Hagrid. Not a punishment so much as a party, a chat with a fellow Harry Potter supporter.

Oh, Luna. That reminds me why I'm writing this. We've just got back from the Christmas holidays to find out from the other two Houses what happened. I didn't know – I've spent the whole holiday at the Leaky Cauldron. But Luna's gone missing.

She never even made it back to King's Cross last year. They snatched her from the train, presumably. She was sitting in a compartment with Ginny and Colin, and she went out for a walk. Forgetting the rule of never going anywhere alone, not when Slytherins might be patrolling, looking for an easy target.

(I know it's unfair to just say 'Slytherins'. Not all Slytherins are evil. And not all of our three Houses are good. But because so many of us are on the right side, if you're not then you stay quiet for fear of us. In Slytherin, it's the opposite.)

(Oh, and I say 'right side' and 'wrong side.' It's the good thing about this war. There's no grey area. You-Know-Who is wrong. The Order of the Phoenix is right. I know that, as a Half-Blood, I would say this, but that's just tough. The truth is the truth.)

Anyway, Luna vanished. She never came back to the compartment, and her father waited for her on Platform Nine and Three Quarters to no avail. We don't know why they took her, but everyone's speculating.

We're all in the seventh year boys' dormitory again. It's become our hangout for things that are too sensitive to discuss in the Common Room, that all of us seventh year Hufflepuffs want to say. Megan, Wayne and Zach all think that they took her because of the Quibbler – her dad being the wizard in charge of it, and it's had a hugely pro-Harry Potter stance throughout, giving out the news that the Prophet, with all of its talk of 'Undesirables' doesn't.

Ernie and Stephen both think that it's because Luna scared the Carrows. Because they couldn't scare Luna. They're right about that – they couldn't scare her. Luna was never scared. That helped a lot of people, and the Carrows hated that.

Not to mention the fact that if you talk to Luna for too long, you end up knowing yourself well. Uncomfortably well, if there are too many things about yourself that you'd rather not have at the forefront of your mind. Her eyes bored into a person, all silver like a cloud or a mirror. And they'd make you ashamed of yourself.

Listen to me, getting all introspective and philosophical like a Ravenclaw. The others would-

Sorry, Susan interrupted me. She told me to stop chewing my bloody plait, I'll end up choking on the hair and she doesn't want to practice the Emeticus Hex right now (she wants to be a Healer and knows a lot of strange spells). And then she asked what I thought.

I said I agreed with them both. I think they took Luna because her dad must be a lot like her. And nothing scares Luna – but I think that hurting her friends might get her to fall into line. So maybe hurting Luna would get her Dad to do the same.

Either way, DA meetings aren't going to be the same without her. Somehow, when Luna Lovegood is there, you don't believe things can go that wrong.

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**Runcorn is mentioned on the Classlist in HP Lexicon, as is Runcorn in Deathly Hallows. I'm presuming they're related.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for reading and especially for reviewing: Likewow5556, ModernDayRapunzel, SunshineBear01, silverbirch, Arlath's Daughter and MidnightIsCalling.**

**More mentions of torture, along with a brief allusion to something else, but if you're innocent enough for it to damage you then you won't notice it. Everyone else, I'm sorry and I deliberately refused to go as far as letting it actually take place, to fictional characters or not. I have to draw a line somewhere, and even if you could read about that happening, I couldn't write it.**

**Sorry about this extensive and cryptic message.**

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Ooh, lucky me. Like in the entry before last, I've joined another, not very elite club. I've now had a Carrow detention!

I'm being flippant about it. I can't help it. It's how we're all coping with this really, by making jokes. Terry Boot said 'We laugh in the face of death or die trying not to.'

Michael Corner told him to stop quoting James Grippando. Whoever he is. And then promptly said 'Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass; it is about learning to dance in the rain.'

Everyone went quiet after that, because the quote sounded so much like Luna. We don't know where she is. We've heard nothing about her, and we've lost our only source of the Quibbler, which might have given us some clues.

My detention was for something ridiculously trivial. Crabbe and Goyle were taunting some poor third year Hufflepuff girl, so I came along and swore at them (I know, my Mum would be horrified, although some of the other workers at the Leaky Cauldron would be thrilled. They always said I was too strait-laced and hard-working for a seventeen year old girl.) Anyway, Amycus came past and told me off for swearing.

I might have said something about how it was no worse than what he did, and made a suggestion about what he did being something dirty with Alecto. I know, my mind cringes from the thought too, but it made the third year grin again.

It was worth the detention.

Anyway, I then spent the rest of my day worrying about who it was going to be giving the detention. I don't expect to be lucky enough to get any of our four friendly Slytherins. I only know the names of the seventh year ones, although I could get a younger student. Daphne Greengrass would be one of the better ones, by all accounts. Or Draco Malfoy. Apparently their Cruciatus curses lack vigour. Theodore Nott is quite bad, as is Pansy Parkinson. What they lack in magical strength, they make up for in imagination. Vicious imagination. Crabbe and Goyle are apparently the worst.

For boys, they often resort to using their fists, although they're no slouches at Cruciatus. For girls….well, it's worse. Lavender Brown was truly lucky, in that her detention with them was interrupted by Seamus Finnigan being thrown in too – they got distracted by him. They beat him to a bloody pulp, but he says it was worth it.

Gryffindors.

There's not been a girl scheduled for a detention with them since. Maybe even Snape, or the Carrows, have a line they won't cross. Alecto is female, after all...even if it's quite hard to tell from looking at her.

Then, at dinner, I found out I wouldn't be alone either. Neville Longbottom had got a detention that day too – something about leaving a Mimbulus Mimbletonia in Alecto's desk. When she opened it, it exploded all over her, covering her in Stinksap in front of her class of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first years.

I don't think they've ever had a better lesson. I didn't know how they traced it back to Neville, until I asked him after our detention. Apparently they're quite rare plants, and some of the Slytherins knew that he had one. I don't know why he was willing to sacrifice such a rare plant, but I'm glad he did because I was happy to have company in his detention. Misery loves company, you know.

Sorry for the random quotes I've been throwing in. As I said earlier, blame Terry Boot and Michael Corner. They do it a lot.

Neville met me at the Hufflepuff table after dinner. Ernie laughed and said that he looked like he was escorting me off for a date. Neville blushed so pink that I might have mistaken him for a Weasley!

We dawdled on our way to the detention – not in any sort of hurry to get there, you understand. Conversation was surprisingly easy, considering the fact that the longest conversation we've had previously was when I was sobbing into his robes, and most subsequent chats have involved flinging hexes at each other.

We were in the middle of a discussion over whether Bubotuber pus would alter the appearance of Amycus' face at all – I said that it would make it a better colour, less blotchy, whilst Neville maintained that it would be indistinguishable from its current state – when we reached the room in the dungeons that had become known as the detention room. I don't know what it was used for before this year, but now it was a truly terrifying place, with chains and whips on the walls, flickering torches and a single desk and chair.

We were partially in luck. It wasn't Crabbe and Goyle, but nor was it Tracey, Millicent, Blaise or Malcolm. Pansy Parkinson was glowering at us along with Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was leaning away from Parkinson, looking so entirely uninterested in the proceedings that I had to wonder if he was taking some sort of Potion.

Parkinson, on the other hand, was grinning viciously. Alecto was waiting at the entrance to the room. She confiscated our wands, locking them in the cupboard across the room and left us alone with the two Slytherins.

Parkinson ordered us to go to separate sides of the room. Neville and I exchanged a quick look, and decided that we'd really rather not. He informed her so in a very polite tone.

I won't go into details. She tried to cast the Imperius curse – it amused us no end when she failed. She deviated then, into Diffindo mainly.

Not very original with her patterns – she wrote 'Mudblood' across my forehead. She tried to write 'Blood Traitor' across Neville's but ran out of room. Thankfully, we still have some Scar Balm in the Room of Requirement. Healing is a bit of a problem – Madam Pomfrey has been banned from helping us. She tries to make it easy for us to steal supplies, but the Carrows are always patrolling there, or some Slytherins.

I know I write this so clinically, but I can't do anything else. If I wrote what I'm feeling, this combination of defiance, despair, horror, disbelief, resignation… I don't think I could finish a single entry. And I have to write this diary. I have to keep this record. There needs to be a record, more than just our memories, of the atrocities that the Carrows are committing.

Back to the main topic….

What was most fascinating was how she was treating Malfoy. He's not the Prince of Slytherin any more – after repeated failure in lessons to cast the Cruciatus, he's a bit of a laughing stock. After everything she did to us, she'd cast a pointed glance at him, as if to say '_See! This is how you do it!'_

Pansy has suffered with Malfoy's fall from grace. She was too close to him, and she never made a back-up Nott is succeeding him as a leader, and Daphne Greengrass seems to be moving into Pansy's place.

Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's former subordinates, are more important than him now.

After about an hour or so, Malfoy pushed himself off the wall. He muttered something about a waste of time, and walked out. He hadn't looked at us once. Pansy snarled and followed him, looking sulky.

She hadn't unlocked the cabinet which contained our wands, so we spent the next half an hour trying to force it open. We finally succeeded, using Neville's surprising strength and what fingernails I had. They're now completely ruined – my fingernails – but I think in the big scheme, it's not very important.

They've never been particularly nice since I bite them when I'm stressed. I'm quite stressed right now.

Surprised?

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**Oh, it wasn't a coincidence that Neville ended up with a detention that day...**

**x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for reviewing: BrokenBokken, Arlath's Daughter, Likewow5556, ModernDayRapunzel, MidnightIsCalling, SunshineBear01 and Jive22.**

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_Extract from Hannah Abbott's diary, April 1998_

Oh, there's so much to say! I'm writing so fast that I don't think that this will be readable –legible, sorry, I forgot there was a proper word for it.

Luna Lovegood is alive! And fine. Ginny Weasley got word to Neville about it over Easter, using her DA coin. Dean Thomas is alive too, and with Luna at Bill Weasley's. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are over the moon.

Even Ginny Weasley's absence can't dent the mood too much, because she, too, is fine. Her family have had to go into hiding, because the Death Eaters got confirmation that Ron Weasley was with Harry Potter (honestly, it's been obvious to us from the beginning. Those three are loyal to each other with nearly the strength of a Hufflepuff. It's a good thing our enemies are quite stupid). They were captured, all of the Trio, by Snatchers – evil, filthy, stupid, grasping people who just go around trying to capture as many Muggleborns who have fled as they can, or taking people who use You-Know-Who's name, which has been Tabooed.

The mood in Hufflepuff is celebratory too, if a lot less than the others. We're just as thrilled that Harry Potter and the others are okay, and relieved for Luna, and happy for Dean. But it's making me worry about Justin, and Rebecca, and Sally-Anne all the more.

If Dean had been captured – which he apparently had – what are the chances that Justin won't have been? And the other Muggleborn who Dean was travelling with, an adult – the father-in-law of our old DADA teacher, Professor Lupin – he was killed.

Sweet sorcerers above, let Justin be okay. I wish he'd taken a coin with him – one of the modified coins, which the Ravenclaws made for us. We can all send messages through them now, not just the leader of the DA. It's a bit hard to send lengthy messages, but we manage.

Neville Longbottom, too, is thrilled for another reason. His grandmother has sent him a letter. In the same way that they took Luna captive to try threaten her Dad, they tried to take Neville's grandma hostage to threaten Neville. They sent an Auror to her home in Halifax.

That would have scared me rigid – but clearly Neville's gran is made of stern stuff. She hexed the Auror they sent to capture her and went on the run. The Auror? He's still in St. Mungo's.

Yorkshire witches – what can I say? They obviously make them tough up north – my Mum included in that, though not me, since by the time I was born, Mum had run away to London from her birth village of Cark-in-Cartmel, in Cumbria.

I know, I was surprised when I heard that that was the real name of a village. Honestly, strange or what?

But she also said that she was hugely proud of Neville. I've been talking to him more lately, and it's easy to see that he's not got the highest self-esteem, for a Gryffindor.

Hufflepuffs are the House that you expect to be humble and self-effacing, not Gryffindors. But Neville is very humble, and sweet. He's the most Hufflepuff Gryffindor I've ever met, but he is still very Gryffindor. He'll leap to danger like any Gryffindor, and nobly self-sacrifice himself – but he won't be so arrogant about it like Gryffindors usually are.

But anyway, we (Susan and I, who discuss such things) blame the lack of self-esteem on his grandmother, because if he was brought up by her then who else was there to give him such an inferiority complex?

So praise from her meant a lot to him.

I'm glad for him, but it's reminded me why I think I'm so lucky. All my friends have people who they are scared rigid about losing, or leaving behind. I'm scared of losing people too, but at least I don't have to worry about how my parents or guardians would react to my death.

Colin Creevey has the problem especially. He's Muggleborn – can you believe it? He's Muggleborn and he turned up to Hogwarts. Just got on the train, cool as a cucumber. He's not of age yet, so he's not too much at risk.

Still. He's a moron. Risking himself like that is one thing, but his little brother came with him.

Their parents don't even know that there's a war on.

I'm scared of losing my friends though. And of dying. On the one hand, I'd almost like the thought that I'd see my mother again…but on the other, I don't know if I would.

Nobody knows what happens when you die. Not for sure. Only the ghosts have come close, but they're hardly any better – just that, if you're scared of passing on, you might be a ghost.

We have a lot of discussions about what comes after death, in DA meetings, in our Common Room, in our dormitory. Some people call it morbid; others call it planning for the (probably near) future.

Parvati and Padma believe in reincarnation, and I sort of like the idea. It makes it feel like everything I've tried for in this life wasn't wasted.

Seamus, Lavender, Anthony, Colin, Megan, Michael…..they all believe in Heaven and Hell. I'm not so keen on that – what if I have to kill someone in the battle? To save myself; to save a friend; just by accident. Would I end up in Hell? If I didn't, is it fair that some of the Death Eaters would? It's not always their fault, what they're doing. The ones under Imperius, or the ones whose families are being threatened.

But would it be Heaven for the rest of us if there were Death Eaters there?

Susan, Ernie and Stephen say that this sort of speculation is pointless. We'll know when we get there. Just be patient and wait.

Of course, we're doing all that we can to delay that day when we get there.

We've started training three times a week. Snape has banned Quidditch, so it's not like we have to avoid clashes with Quidditch training. We're improving – some of us more than others.

I'm afraid that I'm the others. Defence Against the Dark Arts was never a strong point of mine – magic isn't really a strong point of mine. I'm not very quick to pick things up, like remembering incantations and gestures and I'm not delicate enough with my wand to really understand the subtleties of spells.

I'm surprisingly alright at non-verbal spells. The ones that I could already do verbally, it doesn't take much extra time to do non-verbally. It doesn't need extra power, you see, which I don't really have. All you need to do is work harder, concentrate more – I can do that, at least.

It's a matter of wanting it enough, as Carrow is always saying in Dark Arts. Another reason to be thanful. The Killing Curse, we've found out, is extraordinarily difficult. And requires a lot of power, usually. So if you have to duel with a Death Eater, they won't just be sending constant jets of green light, which is nice, sine there's no way to block the Killing Curse.

Of course, I want my spells to work for a whole different reason.

We all want it, so much. There's a new board in the Room of Requirement, covered in pictures. Pictures of the people who we're fighting for. Neville's parents, my Mum, Susan's aunt, Cedric Diggory, Anthony's brother. Richard Runcorn's father.

And the living ones too – Justin, Rebecca, Sally-Anne, Amy, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Dean….the Creeveys are fighting for their mother, because they know that they'll move onto Muggles next. Seamus for his father and brothers, Muggles the lot of them. Megan for her mother. Susan for hers. Me….at least I don't have to worry about anyone not at Hogwarts, really.

Only Tom, and he's been here so long that everyone has forgotten his Blood Status. He's older than You-Know-Who, even. Older than Neville's grandmother. Tom always says 'I was old enough not to remember the turn of the last century, love.'

He means that he was old enough to drink so much that he doesn't remember it. Figures that the barman has always had a love of alcohol. And sweet things, I've found out – I baked him buns once, and he devoured the whole tray.

Nobody else probably even knows his surname (Miller) or his Blood Status – Muggleborn. He's been in the Wizarding World longer than most wizards have been alive, so he doesn't think it should make a bit of difference.

But nobody would hurt Tom, surely. I would kill anyone who did, and that's no longer such an idle threat. Tom helped me through this last year more than anyone else. He knows what it's like to lose people – lots of them, given his age. He's lived through more wars than I could name, and lost friends and family in them all.

The Boer War, the Boxer Rebellion, the First World War – that was something that they called 'The War to End All Wars.' That optimism sounds like ours now…I hope that we win too. And that we're better at preventing more wars, because just twenty years later, they had another World War.

Twenty years isn't even enough for my children to be grown up yet. Tom nodded when I said that. He fought in the first War; and his children, both sons, died in that second World War. The same time as Grindelwald rose to power, apparently. His wife, also Muggle, died ten years later.

I could never marry a Muggle. The pain of having them die on me – which they would do, since a wizard, if they avoid disease or Avada Kedavra, will live past a century and the average Muggle lifespan is only eighty years or so.

So short a time…Tom was only sixty when his children died, and if he's lucky then he can expect that to be less than half of his life. But to a Muggle, life would be three-quarters gone.

Sorry about the focus on mortality….it's on our minds a lot, right now, with Cruciatus and beatings just happening in the corridors. It's worst for the seventh years and those sixth years who are of age. They try not to Cruciate the little ones – still a chance to brainwash them to their side, I suppose.

We don't know when we'll have to stand and fight. But we can't leave the others at Hogwarts to their mercy, so if the time hasn't come by the end of the year, then we'll fight. Just after our last NEWT exam. A real end-of-exams celebration.

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**Thanks for reading...we're nearing the big confrontation now. One more important thing to get done.**

**I based where Hannah and Neville come from, again, on the Classlist essay on HP Lexicon. References taken verbatim:**

**'"Longbottom" is a Lancashire surname; in fact the name is about twelve times more common in Yorkshire. So let's compromise by saying that Neville lives in a textiles town such as Halifax, which is close to the Lancashire border and culturally very similar.'**

**'The surname "Abbott" is found predominantly in the north of England, so Hannah is our most likely candidate for the glorious Lake District area of Cumbria.'**

**x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for reviewing: ModernDayRapunzel, BrokenBokken, Arlath's Daughter, silverbirch, Likewow5556, shine lots and Jive22.**

**We're nearly at the battle now...**

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_Excerpt from Hannah Abbott's diary, late April 1998_

I'm writing this from a very new place. The Room of Requirement. We've moved in. Gradually.

Neville was the first one to go – about two weeks after they failed to take his grandmother, we got word from Blaise Zabini that they were about to move against him, take him to Azkaban. Quite an honour, really, that he's been causing them that much trouble to merit the same fate as Muggleborns and Order members.

It continued like that, with people slowly making their way in. Seamus, Ernie, Parvati, Lavender, Michael – all the ringleaders.

The Carrows and Snape noticed – even they're not that stupid. They decided to take the rest of seventh year, since we're all of age.

They needed Slytherins to help them round us up, though, and that was their undoing. Tracey and Millicent weren't trusted to help – half-bloods, you see. Clearly unworthy.

But Blaise Zabini and Malcolm Baddock were. But Blaise was stuck with Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle and couldn't get word to us. Malcolm, who's only a sixth year, was less watched.

We never gave the Slytherins any DA coins – if they were found with them, it would be too terrible. But they do have pieces of parchment, which they can write on and the message gets to Neville, Ernie and Michael, as our leaders in all the Houses now.

So Malcolm wrote this message – but they didn't reply. We had this heard from another source, the House-Elves, and the three of them were co-ordinating our escape from the Common Rooms.

All the Gryffindors had already gone, but they were opening doors from the Room of Requirement as close to the Ravenclaw Common Room as possible – for Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Lisa Turpin, Su Li. Even Richard Runcorn.

I wish I could say that we Hufflepuffs were all the same. Megan, Wayne, Susan, Stephen, me – even Rhiannon, who's not been at Hogwarts for a full year yet, still doesn't speak fluent English but wants to make a stand against You-Know-Who for a Wizarding World she barely knows.

But Zacharias Smith – he had one detention and quit the DA. I'd sympathise, a little, were it not for the sneaking suspicion that the only reason he quit was because he got a broken nose, which ruins his good looks just a little.

Not that I think he's good-looking! He's far too pretty for my tastes. Golden haired, perfect skin. I bet my hands have more calluses than his.

But he definitely thinks he's gorgeous, so he didn't want to risk his looks any more.

Ha. All of us are scarred, especially since we ran out of Scar Balm in March. Parvati has a cut across the back of her neck, from where Lilith Moon used Diffindo to slice off Parvati's plait. (I knew she was jealous of Parvati's luxuriant hair, since her own is so thin and stringy).

Parvati wears her hair up now, to display that scar. She's proud of it.

Stephen Cornfoot had an encounter with Pansy Parkinson, like Neville and I. He has 'TRAITOR' written across his forehead. She cut its length down after failing with Neville to fit it on his forehead. Who says you can't teach an ugly dog new tricks?

Neville has two huge gashes on his cheeks, courtesy of the Carrows.

I have a long burn along my left hand side. I have Crabbe to thank for that, and I'm not ashamed of it, no matter how ugly it looks. Even if we live through this, I'll be perfectly fine with explaining it to my children.

The very idea of having to explain it, that there might one day be witches and wizards whose lives haven't been blighted like this, that is enough to keep us fighting.

I got slightly distracted there, didn't I?

Anyway, I was talking about Malcolm. He kept trying to contact us – and then he was caught by Nott, who came to get him for the strike.

They cut his hands off.

I'm re-reading that, and I still can't believe it. Even after all that barbaric behaviour that the Carrows have shown, even although I know how they are murderers of women and children, and of men. It's no better to murder a man than a woman. And of Muggles – it's no worse to murder a wizard than a Muggle.

I cried when I heard. I haven't cried since last September, not for anything. Not for the pain of Cruciatus, Diffindo, the loss of Ginny or Luna…But this was so terrible. I never thought I'd cry over a Slytherin, but I did. I never even spoke to Malcolm, Ernie only pointed him out to me in the corridors once.

Colin Creevey came to us to tell us what had happened (and then stayed here, with his brother). The Carrows did it at dinner. In front of everyone. And then they took Malcolm to Azkaban.

After that, we had quite a few more refugees coming to the Room. It's fine – it has expanded to fit us in. It's such a marvellous place, sprouting bathrooms and dormitories and even a passageway to the Hog's Head!

Which is how we're getting food. Snape is intelligent enough (just) to remember the House-Elves and forbid them to bring us food. But if they thought to starve us out, they made a mistake.

We've made a few forays out – to spread DA leaflets and remind people why we're fighting. Posters of everyone we've lost so far.

Michael Corner even went out to rescue a young first-year from the dungeons, Andrew Dervish.

He was locked there for his impersonations. A new Hufflepuff this year, he's absolutely fantastic at impersonating people. He used to do it in the Common Room, and his impression of Snape actually made me cry with laughter. But then he did it in the wrong place, and the wrong people overheard.

He's in the Room's infirmary now – the first-year, not Michael. Michael is being looked after in the Ravenclaw section of the Room. I think it's the safest place for him – certainly, I wouldn't like to see someone try to get past the Ravenclaws. All that knowledge, and just a little bit less conscience than a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff…..I respect the Ravenclaws now more than I did before this year, but I'm just as wary of what they can do as ever.

But Andrew being in the infirmary… that's what leads on to my other news. I was on guard the other night – we keep somebody awake at all times. The Carrows shouldn't be able to get into the Room of Requirement, but a lot of things that shouldn't happen are.

Children shouldn't be tortured. Children shouldn't be learning how to torture others. We shouldn't be afraid for our lives at _school._ We should be worrying about our NEWTs, not whether we can perfect the Patronus Charm. We should be worrying about having boyfriends and girlfriends (more on that later) not whether we'll live to see the end of the month.

In the middle of my shift, he started crying out. He's a Hufflepuff, I'm a Hufflepuff – I went to help him, because that's what we do.

Then Neville appeared. He claimed that he'd been awake anyway, and I didn't ask why (who needs to, these days, when there is plenty to keep you awake and worrying at three AM).

But, he went to Andrew's aid, though they'd not spoken once and, before this nightmare of a school year, would not have recognised the other in a crowd.

Caught in a fever, he mistook us for his own parents, and grabbed hold of our hands, not letting go until he was in a deep, mercifully dreamless sleep. We sort of looked at each other awkwardly…and then we kissed. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was slow, and kind, and hopefully. Not passionate, like Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter's first kiss. Not in the middle of an argument, like Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley's first kiss will no doubt be, when they realise what we've known for ages.

But it was lovely. And after we'd kissed, I put my head on his shoulder, we sat by the wall in case he woke again, and slowly drifted off to sleep together.

I kissed Neville Longbottom! I don't know if it was hormones, adrenaline, the fear of impending death…

I do know that I'd like to do it again.

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**I love this pairing...I hope you think I did their first kiss justice.**

**Please review.**

**x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for reviewing: Jive22, BrokenBokken, Likewow5556, ModernDayRapunzel, silverbirch and Arlath's Star**

**And we have arrived at the battle...**

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_An extract from the diary of Hannah Abbott, May 1998_

This is a short message. We're all waiting for Harry Potter to come back from visiting the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Yep, you read that right. Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts – along with Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas, and so many others. Lee Jordan, Ginny Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Cho Chang. Seamus looked like he might kiss Dean, he was that thrilled to see his best friend alive.

I know how he feels. If Justin walked through that portrait, I'd throw myself at him, and I know Neville would understand. So would Susan (even though she's definitely serious with Ernie). That's been one of the worst parts of this year – we're so isolated, at Hogwarts, with the Carrows controlling the flow of information in and out. There have been Dementors around the border of the school all year – even though we can all produce a corporeal Patronus by now, I don't like them.

No matter what happens with Harry Potter, we're going to fight. There are more and more people arriving every second now. Most of the old Gryffindor Quidditch team. The Weasleys, apart from Percy Weasley.

Everyone is agreed. We're fighting.

So this is my message, in case the worst happens. If Susan, or Ernie, or Justin is reading this. I love you. You helped me through the hardest year of my life – not this year, the year before. And once I'd made it through that, I could make it through anything.

We'll go out fighting. I'll go out fighting. You can have anything you want of mine. I imagine Susan will be the only one wanting any clothes or jewellery.

I hope you live. Well, I hope I live, but I hope you live too.

I hope we win!

I hope….this is for Neville now. We've kissed twice – it's not really enough to say that we're in love, barely enough to say that we're boyfriend and girlfriend. But if I don't come back from this, know that I did love you. You were kind, and sweet, and heroic, and sensible. All in one. You were practical enough to know what had to be done, and noble enough to just do it.

I should leave you a ring, or something. But my mother never got an engagement ring (she never got married) and there wasn't enough time before my grandparents disowned her for the passing on of ancestral rings. So just know I love you.

All over the Room now, people are saying goodbyes, making arrangements. I never realised before just how many couples have got together over this year – probably due to almost-certain imminent death. There's every type.

Neville, who had a crush on me for years. Susan and Ernie, who both had crushes on each other for years and didn't dare say. Morag MacDougal, who's plain and freckled and short, and who has always pined for Michael Corner, who dates all the prettiest and most popular girls, but didn't realise until this year the one who was right in front of him. The flirt and the genius - Lavender Brown and the Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein, who I would never have guessed even knew that girls exist! Su Li and Amy Spinks, a cross-House relationship if not a cross-gender one.

And we all wonder if we should have acted years ago, rather than waited until now, until our time together is limited.

Merlin, I hope we win. I think I'd rather die than have Voldemort win. And I wrote his name! Hah!

Harry's back. We're all going down to the Great Hall. I'm going to stop writing now, before I get left behind. Goodbye! Good luck!

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**Hannah is oscillating between hope, excitement, relief that it's over, terror, morbidity...I'm glad that I'm not in a war!**

**x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for reviewing: Jasper Lupione, Jive22, Likewow5556, Arlath's Star, BrokenBokken and silverbirch**

**Last chapter...**

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_Extract from the diary of Hannah Abbott, July 2005_

Well, guess what my new mother in law gave me as a wedding present!

Yep, this diary. I knew that I left it in the Room of Requirement – I presumed it was burned along with the Room and Crabbe. I only missed one of those two, and it wasn't Crabbe.

But nope. Augusta Longbottom was passing through the Room after us and must have read my name on it. And picked it up, which is a bit nosy of her. I bet she was a Ravenclaw. And she must have eyes like a hawk!

Neville had spoken about me to her. A lot. So she was quite curious. I never knew he had a crush on me before seventh year, but apparently it had been going on at least since fifth year, and Dumbledore's Army for the first time.

And they say men are oblivious.

My husband isn't. Oh, my husband! I'll never tire of saying that. I'm looking at my _husband's _face now, as he sleeps.

People are supposed to look innocent in their sleep, like babies. Neville doesn't. He looks stern and fearsome, entirely the Commander-In-Chief of Dumbledore's Army, the result of those jagged scars that cross his cheeks.

I love his scars, though. And he says he loves mine. That long burn along my side, from one of Crabbe's early, less successful attempts at Fiendfyre. The little white line on my forehead, when it struck a table as I writhed in agony under the Cruciatus. I don't even know which time that was.

Our scars are mental too. We've comforted each other through every nightmare possible. We lived through the worst nightmare possible.

Not all of us lived. Wayne Hopkins. Rhiannon Cooper. Stephen Cornfoot. Terry Boot. Colin Creevey. Demelza Robbins. Sally-Anne Perks. Richard Runcorn. Fred Weasley.

The list of names is too long to recite. I am so thankful for some that aren't there - Neville, Ernie, Susan, Justin. Myself. And then I feel selfish because we weren't all so lucky, we didn't all make it through. More cruelly, it was often one of a pair that made it through. Lavender Brown but not Anthony Goldstein. Amy Spinks but not Su Li.

And all fading into history now, history that, please, please, to all gods or saints or wizards who can read this, will not repeat itself. The death of children is too terrible, too cruel. Something I'm only now realising as I start to consider having my own.

We had a nightmare to thank the first time we kissed. And the first time we slept together – the same night, although it was truly only sleeping together. That little first-year boy doesn't know what he did. Andrew Dervish…..he lived through the Battle, through the hell of it all. I think he joined the Wizarding Wireless Network. We fell asleep by his bedside, hands linked and our first kiss behind us.

We woke next to each other in the morning to giggles, and looks, but not too many, because no matter what the calendar might say, despite what I said earlier, we weren't children, not any more.

Not children, not since we were Cruciated in our lessons. Not children, not since we knew what it was to fear for our lives. Not children, when we used lessons about how Avada Kedavra required concentration and power to plan battle stratagems.

I hadn't been a child since the beginning of sixth year, when Mum died and left me orphaned in a world that had just changed beyond recognition. Without any family…but now I'm smiling again, because the wedding ring on my finger is catching the light. I have a family now, that was for sure.

Really, I had one before. Justin, Ernie, Susan - most of those who I fought with in seventh year were close enough to consider family. And then there's Tom, who walked me down the aisle yesterday, weeping as copiously as any father ever did at their daughter's wedding. Tom, who gave me half of the Leaky Cauldron as a wedding present, with the other half to go to me on his death. I know I've been virtually running it for years, but I never imagined that he would give it to a girl of no blood kin….but we're family.

Aged eleven, I learned to be a witch, and a Hufflepuff. Aged sixteen, I learned to be an orphan. Aged seventeen, I learned to be a barmaid. My eighteeth year was a busy one – in less than twelve months, I learned to be a soldier, a heroine and a veteran. Aged twenty-four, I learned to be a pub chef. Aged twenty-six, I learned to be a landlady.

Now, aged twenty-six, I'm about to learn how to be a wife, a wife to a hero, to a Herbology assistant professor, to a mild-mannered man with an abashed smile and kind eyes.

Married life with Neville won't be hard – I love to cook and Neville loves to garden. I can already see that he'll be great with children, probably better than me! I've seen him with Harry and Ginny's new baby, and even if he looks nervous and tries to avoid holding little James Potter, knowing his own clumsiness, he can keep him entertained perfectly well.

A family….I cannot wait. I want as many kids as possible. Neville and I came from single-child, tiny families. We don't want that – especially because we want to lavish a lot of love on them, and the last thing we want is a spoiled only child, Draco Malfoy being a prime example of that. I don't care what House they're in. Even if they're in Slytherin. I want boys, and I want girls.

Children, family holidays, growing old together….it'll all start soon. This is just the first morning of the rest of our life.

Wish me luck, diary. It worked last time. Hopefully it will again.

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**Thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed this story. I didn't mean to write it, it just popped into my head, so thanks very much for helping me get rid of it!**

**And hopefully I can try spend a little bit more time revising for my exams now that I only have one In-Progress story. If anyone wants to read it (who isn't already, thank you to those who are reading it who crossed-over into this!), it's about the Next Generation kids, including Neville and Hannah's, Ron and Hermione's, Harry and Ginny's, Draco and Astoria's and Dennis Creevey's.**

**x**


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